Forgot
by emoly01
Summary: Yuki forgot to do something, and he must face the consequences.


Yuki's fingers flew over the keys on his laptop, creating a soft rapid clicking that pierced the dull, consistent sound of rain hitting the roof and pavement outside. It was dark in Yuki's study, and his eyes were glued on the screen, although he didn't read what he wrote. It was a habit of his to look at the screen, whether or not he was paying attention to it, so that Shuichi would hopefully leave him alone and understand that he was busy. It usually didn't work.

The blinds were open, which revealed the dark, looming clouds outside. It did nothing to illuminate the office, except when lightning flashed and the thunder temporarily drowned out the sound of his typing and the pounding rain. Yuki was in his zone, unaware of his surroundings. Not even the thunder jarred or distracted him, so naturally, why would the door slamming catch his attention?

Loud, squishing thuds sounded outside his closed office door. It wasn't closed for long. Shuichi burst into the room with a loud bang from the door hitting the wall. Still, Yuki did not recognize that it even happened. Shuichi stomped into the room, his hands clenched in fists at his sides.

"Yuki Eiri!" he shouted and his fists connected with Yuki's desk loudly. Even still, Yuki said nothing, although he was vaguely aware of another presence in the room. It wasn't enough to break his concentration, and his fingers went a little faster as he could almost feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins – the adrenaline his character was high on, the character that was running for his life from the serial killer.

Shuichi crossed his arms moodily and shouted again, "Yuki Eiri!" This earned little recognition from the author, but it was a miracle Shuichi had gotten any recognition at all. Yuki realized the person in the room had spoken, although who said it, why they said it, and what exactly they said was lost to him. He didn't question it, though, for these thoughts didn't cross his mind.

A cold, wet hand grabbed his own and he was suddenly pulled into reality, staring into the angriest amethyst eyes he'd ever seen. He blinked, and clicked control and save simultaneously with his free hand. It seemed Shuichi was upset and wanted to talk to him.

"Why weren't you there?" Shiuchi asked. His voice wasn't raised or high pitched; it was strained, quiet, and venomous. Yuki's brain wasn't as quick in reality as it was on the screen, and he struggled to come to the conclusion that he didn't know what Shuichi was talking about.

He raised an eyebrow and replied evenly, "Why wasn't I where?" Shuichi let go of Yuki's hand and stood up straight. Yuki took in Shuichi's state for the first time, and boy did Shuichi look miserable. His hair was dripping and clumped together unevenly, and little rivers of water streamed down his face. His clothes were completely soaked through, and his shoes which he had neglected to take off squished when he walked. His hands were clenched and pale while his cheeks were flushed. It dawned on Yuki that Shuichi had been walking in the rain.

Shuichi clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times before answering through gritted teeth, "You said you'd pick me up today since the weather man reported a thunderstorm. Why weren't you at the studio?" Yuki blinked slowly and leaned back in his chair, trying to recall saying something along those lines. That really shouldn't have been what he was thinking about, however. He should have been thinking about a way to explain and make it up to Shuichi.

"I did promise, didn't I?" Yuki murmured. His mind strayed to his novel, where his character was about to die. He wondered idly if the character should live. It hadn't occurred to him until just then, and it opened up a few interesting doors. He'd have to change his outline, though. It was fun to speculate anyway.

"I know you did, now answer my question. Why. Weren't. You. There?" Shuichi's words were cold, and he emphasized each word. He could feel Yuki's attention slipping, and he wanted the man to suffer, or at the very least feel his wrath. Yuki turned his head to Shuichi again. He hadn't been aware that he'd looked away until Shuichi spoke.

Yuki shrugged and explained simply, "I didn't remember and I lost track of time." Shuichi's anger mounted, and it was completely displayed on his face. It contorted in ways Yuki had never seen, and for a moment Yuki felt like his character did; he felt like someone was about to kill him.

"I stood out in the rain," Shuichi hissed, "for half an hour, waiting for you, because you _forgot_?" Yuki wondered if he should sit and listen or run. Either way, if he was writing this scene he would die. "You have no idea," Shuichi growled, pushing his face threateningly into Yuki's, "how degrading it was to be ditched or how horrible it felt for my hope to dwindle and die like that. Do you understand how – how miserable I felt, realizing you abandoned me?" Yuki felt his heart race, and wondered if his life was really in danger. If looks could kill, he wouldn't have to wonder. In fact, he'd be dead and would be rendered incapable of wondering.

Despite the feeling of dread, Yuki had to defend himself. So he asked, "Couldn't you have called me?" Shuichi threw his hands in the air exasperatedly. His steel, angry gaze locked on Yuki's face. Yuki swallowed and felt like he'd hit a chord that he shouldn't have. Shuichi reached for Yuki's cell, put it on speakerphone, and listened to his voicemails.

"Yuki? I'm probably overreacting, but you're five minutes late. Hurry up, please."

"It's me. I think I dialed the wrong number just now. You're six minutes late, can you please come get me soon?"

"Yuki, its ten minutes since I last called and you're still not here. Where are you?"

"Hey, are you coming? It's raining pretty hard – please, please, please hurry up."

"I'm starting to get worried, Yuki! Where are you? Are you okay?"

"If you don't pick me up soon, I'll have to walk home. It's raining, so I hope you get here before I leave."

"You better be on the floor bloody and unconscious when I get home or else you're in for a week of hell!"

Shuichi flipped the cell phone closed and tossed it to Yuki, who was still adjusting to reality and didn't move to catch it. The item fell in his lap, and Shuichi crossed his arms angrily. He looked like he was waiting for something, but Yuki had no idea what he could be waiting for. If Shuichi was going to kill him, why wasn't he getting on with it?

Shuichi glared openly at him and asked irritably, "What have you got to say for yourself? Your phone wasn't on vibrate, so don't use that as an excuse." Yuki grasped suddenly that Shuichi was indeed not going to kill him, and his novel was getting to him. With that, Yuki stopped caring that Shuichi was angry, and fell back into his normal self.

"Why would I have something to say?" Yuki asked, turning to his computer, "You're back safe, even if I forgot to pick you up." Lightning flashed and illuminated Shuichi's angry expression, and not a second later thunder roared. Shuichi's shoulders tensed and squared and he raised his chin defiantly. Oh, how he was itching to physically take out his frustrations on Yuki. It made him even more infuriated when he noticed Yuki didn't care. He seemed incapable, though, of thinking of a satisfying way to get Yuki to understand his irritation, or to get back at Yuki.

Shuichi took a deep breath through his nose and announced, "I'm going for a walk. When I come back, I'm going to take a shower and go to bed." His eyes flashed and he left the office. Yuki noted irritably that Shuichi had tracked mud and water all over the apartment and probably wouldn't clean it up, which left Yuki to do it instead.

Yuki had finished his chapter, ran out of creative juice and was cleaning. His irritation had washed away with the physical labor and he felt guilt creep up on him. He should have been there for Shuichi, and he should have been sympathetic toward the singer. Shuichi had every right to be upset with him. This time, Shuichi's extreme emotions were warranted. Yuki had to admit he would have been upset too, maybe even angrier than Shuichi was if that had happed to him. Not that he'd ever rely on Shuichi to get him anywhere.

He hated the guilt that seized him and squeezed his heart. He easily decided to apologize as soon as Shuichi got home. _Maybe I should call him and ask if he wants me to pick him up_… His fingers trailed around the edge of the phone in his pocket and decided against it. If Shuichi left, he needed to blow off some steam, and if he wanted Yuki to pick him up, he'd call.

Yuki went back to mopping, but as soon as the wet _splosh_ sounded through the room, the door opened and he looked up to see Shuichi standing in the doorway, looking more miserable and angrier than before. He looked so angry, in fact, that angry didn't even describe it. He looked furious, fuming, enraged, livid. Yuki listed off more synonyms in his head, but stopped when he noticed he and Shuichi were staring at each other.

Yuki opened his mouth to talk, but Shuichi silently walked by him and his shoulder violently pushed into Yuki's. Yuki didn't respond, and let the minor abuse go. _Shuichi just needs to calm down_, he told himself before he continued cleaning up the water and mud on the floor.

He finished mopping and went back into his study, where he sat on his computer and started to write. He easily immersed himself in the universe of his novel, and his fingers danced on the keyboard. The clicking was drowned out by the roll of thunder, somehow louder than before and it was almost simultaneous with the lightning.

His concentration broke when part of the background noise ceased. The running water from the shower stopped and had his mind subtly thinking of Shuichi. His thoughts gradually became more direct, until he finally was thinking about Shuichi and his hands were still, although poised to continue typing. Should he just go and apologize? He half expected Shuichi to come in and hug him. Instead, though, he listened to Shuichi get ready for bed. He could hear the sound of the closet opening and closing. There were a few clings in the bathroom and the water ran briefly.

Yuki took his distraction as a sign that he was done writing for the night. He saved his document and turned off his computer. Guilt still coursed through his veins. It hadn't dissipated or reduced any since it surged up, and he thought it a miracle he could write so easily while his emotions were rampaging in his mind. He left the office and went into the bedroom, where Shuichi lay on the bed. The comforter wrapped around him and all Yuki could see of the singer was a fan of pink hair spread across the pillow.

Yuki padded into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Shuichi, I-," he began, only to earn a well aimed kick in his back. It didn't hurt, but it was forceful and violent. Yuki found himself off the bed and on his unsteady feet. He stumbled a little bit before catching himself and straightening his back. He turned to look at Shuichi, and found a seething vocalist glaring at him. His head poked out of the blankets and Yuki could see the drying tears on Shuichi's flushed cheeks. His guilt multiplied and he opened his mouth to talk again, but Shuichi spoke first.

"You're an ass. Get out," he ordered. A shaking hand pointed at the door, and Shuichi said no more. He'd gotten his point across. Yuki was dumbfounded for a moment, only staring at Shuichi incredulously. He recovered after a few tense, silent minutes.

Yuki's eyes went dead, something Shuichi hadn't seen in a long time, and he muttered his rest of his sentence that Shuichi interrupted, "Apologize." He turned to the door, neither slowly nor quickly, but with dead motions. There was no other way to describe how he was acting. His movements held no zeal, but they weren't slow. Shuichi's eyes glued onto the novelist's back while he left.

As Yuki turned to close the door, a pillow hit him square in the face and landed harmlessly at his feet. Yuki looked at the object thrown at him, and back up at Shuichi. He bent down, picked it up, and tossed it gently back on the bed.

"You don't honestly think I'll be able to sleep – you're smarter than to believe otherwise," Yuki commented apathetically. It was a statement, and held no emotion in it whatsoever. With that, he closed the door and went into his office to stare at his computer screen blankly for, he assumed, the rest of the night.

Yuki tore his eyes from the blank computer screen and rested his head on the back of his chair. He inhaled through his nose like he'd done so many times already, and just like the other times guilt built up in his chest as soon as he exhaled. A strange idea went through his mind, and he wondered if he should try.

He tried to see if the guilt wouldn't resurface if he didn't exhale. He took a deep breath and held it, focusing solely on the ceiling. He found soon that the guilt didn't subside, and he let the air gush out from between his lips. Exhaling was merely crushing sensation, which accented his guilt.

Suddenly, he needed to pee. He stirred, not wanting to get up, but at the same time needing to. His muscles felt stiff and were cramping from not moving for so long. He still didn't want to move, though. What if he made too much noise and woke up Shuichi? Then again, when did he ever care? On the other hand, when did he ever feel guilty? It wasn't really Shuichi's anger that got to him. It was imagining Shuichi in the rain, dripping wet, the glimmer of hope in his eyes… and then that hope dying – his trust in Yuki dying. Then there was the memory of Shuichi's flushed wet face, peeking out from under the comforter.

The thunder storm had not left the city yet, and was still loud and gloomy as ever. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled. The sound reverberated in Yuki's chest, which woke him up some, and made his need to pee greater. With a heavy sigh, Yuki stood and crossed his apartment to go to the bathroom.

He opened the bathroom door, closed it, unzipped his pants and the steady sound of liquid pouring into liquid filled the air. It was a relief, but it wasn't the relief he wanted. He wanted the weight of guilt and sincerity off his shoulders. He zipped his pants, flushed the toilet, washed his hands (for some reason they felt unusually dirty), and left the bathroom.

He didn't know where to go from there. His novel wasn't getting anywhere and he was tired of staring at his office ceiling. He didn't dare go to bed, and that roused some astonishment from him. Since when had he ever felt he couldn't go into his own bedroom? Shuichi didn't pay the rent; what gave him the authority to keep Yuki out? Yuki looked down at his hands and thought; _I gave him the authority when I fell in love with him_. It was the first time he'd ever really admitted to himself that he loved Shuichi.

Still, he didn't know where to go. It was physically impossible for him to sleep on the couch or in his office chair, and his emotions wouldn't let him sleep anyway, so he found himself seated in his living room, watching the muted television. The high pitched whine of the machine grated on his nerves, but he was afraid he would wake Shuichi if he turned on the volume. He wondered idly when Shuichi would forgive him and stop being so angry.

_Seething,_ Yuki thought, _That's the only word that accurately describes him now_. Still, Shuichi wasn't one to hold a grudge. At least, that was Yuki's impression. This was the first time Yuki thought he'd actually seen Shuichi truly angry. It was humbling in its own way, and Yuki frowned after realizing he'd actually made Shuichi mad. _Not mad – seething_, he reminded himself.

Thunder rolled, but since there weren't any windows in the living room, he didn't know there was lightning. He paid it no mind, though, and kept staring at the television and speculating Shuichi's anger, and wallowing in his shame. How could he have done that to Shuichi? Left Shuichi in the pouring rain… Because he forgot? Suddenly, Yuki was vehemently angry at himself. How could he be so stupid? How could he give such a lame excuse? How could he even try to excuse himself? _How could I?_

The back of his head smashed into the wall, and he felt an acute pain where he'd hit his head. He moved his head forward, and back so it hit the wall again. He copied this motion six times before he received an answering thud, indicating he was disturbing his neighbors. He lifted his head and his eyes lingered longingly on his bedroom door. He was exhausted.

He glanced at his watch and almost ripped out his hair when he saw it was 3:17. He'd checked the time almost an hour ago and it had been 3: 15! Time was going by so slowly… He sighed and wallowed in the dull throbbing in the back of his head. Served him right… _Shuichi deserves better than a neglectful, apathetic piece of trash for a boyfriend_, he thought morbidly. _And yet he stays with me. Why does he put up with my shit? I'm an ass hole!_

He shook his head and turned off the television. He wasn't paying any attention to it and he wasn't about to pay for all that wasted electricity. No longer did he understand what his body was doing as he pushed himself off of the couch and lay down on the carpeted floor. He wondered about what his body was doing before letting it go. It didn't matter anymore. _Only Shuichi matters anymore… when did I get like this? _His body yawned and his eyes drooped. Yet sleep did not claim him. He stayed completely still for the rest of the morning, staring off into space on his living room floor.

That's exactly how Shuichi found him, on the floor, looking miserable. Shuichi decided he wasn't getting anywhere with this grudge either, so he nudged Yuki's leg with his foot. Yuki stirred and he looked up at Shuichi. His mouth opened to say something, but nothing came out, so he closed his jaw with a loud click. All he could think about was how gorgeous Shuichi looked when he was furious. His eyebrows were pulled down slightly and his mouth formed a firm line. His eyes were absolutely hostile.

"I forgive you," he said softly, "but please don't forget to pick me up today." Yuki stared at Shuichi for another moment and slowly pushed himself to his feet. At first, he wasn't quite sure how to react. He had just been forgiven. He should have seen it coming; Shuichi wasn't one to hold grudges.

Finally, Yuki grunted and muttered, "I'm going to make breakfast," and left Shuichi in the living room. Shuichi smiled widely and followed Yuki into the kitchen to watch him cook.

-A/N:

TehKusoGaki's "Forget Something?" inspired this story and I encourage everyone to read it if you liked this! ^^ R&R please!


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